Distractions
by mysterywings
Summary: Alfred, for once, becomes flustered as he develops an infatuation for the girl who shares the library lounge with him. APHRPW one-shot.


A short fic in response to Day 2 of aph rare pair week: highschool au, with some special notes at the end

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><p>Alfred had thought that he knew everyone in his school, but the girl he noticed while glancing up from his worn copy of Fitzgerald proved him wrong.<p>

She was seated on the opposite side of a cozy lounge in the library. Her long ponytail was a swish of ink. Her eyes, a shade lighter than brown, traced the pages of an Environmental Science textbook with intense focus. Her sense of fashion seemed to be prioritized around comfort, preferring outfits of sweatpants and tees. She was only accompanied with a pair of black-frame glasses and a thermos of tea, sometimes coffee.

On the first day Alfred became aware of her existence, he was so busy absorbing this new information that somehow the bell blared and the girl rushed out of the library before he could even introduce himself.

Alfred did some asking around and learned that she was a new student who had moved from Washington. And that her name was Lien.

On the last period of every-other day, when he settled into his armchair and found his gaze drawn to the girl sitting only a few feet across, he often wondered what he's waiting for. It was very strange of Alfred F. Jones to not immediately strike up conversation. To be sitting here, with his blank Lit homework on his lap, as the _bystander _was a laughable concept. And yet here, (for her), it was true.

Alfred kept quiet mostly because he was trying to find the right words, the suavest beginning of their friendship. As the days passed, however, the appropriate words were becoming fewer and fewer (a fact which he adamantly ignored). Or maybe he found some strange pleasure in just _sitting _there, deriving a non-existent relationship from their comfortable silence, as opposed to the usual clamor he was surrounded with. There was some enjoyment in trying to guess her personality by what he could see. Lien, the pillar of constant calm. A slightly lonesome only-child. A tragically shy damsel. Painstakingly polite. Extremely quiet but wondrous at listening.

It was a sweltering June day. The ceiling fan spun above them in a hypnotic hum. Lien seemed unfazed by the heat as she took a swig of her drink and, over the rim of her thermos, caught Alfred's eye. "Am I distracting you?" she asked challengingly, in a voice more assertive than Alfred ever expected.

He jerked out of his dazed stupor and fumbled with his pencil. He hadn't realized that he had been staring. "I…I can smell your coffee from over here," he said dumbly. A terrible excuse._  
><em>

She glanced at her drink and then back at the red-faced teenager. "How inconsiderate of me. Maybe I'll bring some for you next time." She finished off the sarcastic remark by curling her lip into a little smile. "What's your name?"

"Alfred F. Jones. What kind is it? Your coffee, I mean. Did you get it from the Starbucks nearby?" Alfred thoughtlessly asked, simultaneously horrified that their first conversation was a topic as mundane as coffee.

Lien snorted. "I strongly suspect that my coffee is much stronger than your Starbucks stuff," she chuckled good-naturedly.

Alfred was dying. Not only was he acting incredibly lame, but every second of this conversation was tearing down his fantasy-vision of Lien that he had constructed. And it was dawning on him how incredibly _creepy _it was of him to silently observe her. She had not even known his name, while Alfred…oh God…

As for Lien? She had noticed. Of course she had noticed. Not right away, but it was hard not to notice a tall boy with electric-blue eyes glance at you every couple of minutes. She had thought that he must've been a socially oblivious literature geek, a gorgeous one at that—but after slowly learning about her new school, she soon recognized him as the captain of the football team. One of those rare quiet jocks, then? Even that wasn't true, based on the stories of his boisterous ways that Elizaveta and Mei told her.

She had felt a little annoyed when his more well-known side refused to present itself—he seemed like the sort to initiate friendships, which a new girl in school was in need of, by default. Now, after a couple weeks of this silliness, Lien thought that waiting was also annoying.

Watching him fumble gave _Lien_ an acute case of second-hand embarrassment. "Sorry for snapping at you a second ago. Forget about it," she said. She nodded to the slim volume Alfred held. "I wouldn't pay attention to a book of poems, either."

At last, Alfred broke away from the grip of awkwardness. "What are you saying?" he countered, matching her playful tone. "Poems are the bomb!"

"Mm." She was unconvinced. "I've heard too many poetic idioms from my parents to agree."

"These are different. These are _classics_. Hey, I'll read a couple, right here and now. Welcome to a live poetry reading by Alfred F. Jones, literature and football extraordinaire."

Lien rolled her eyes but marked her place in her textbook. Yet, before Alfred started reading, she wanted to bring up one more thing. Or maybe it was too sly?

"So, you _were_ distracted by me," she said.

He looked at her with an abashed grin. "Guilty as charged, ma'am." He proceeded to search his book for the sappiest poem it had.

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A/N: 1) Alfred might be OOC, I admit, but I will counter with the fact that I absolutely adore the concept of America being shy just for Vietnam.

2) I wanted to break the often-seen AmeViet trend that America always makes the first move (a trope I have used, I once again confess).

3) I also wanted an excuse for Viet to wear cute reading glasses. This is a concept that should be explored more often (*cough* fan artists please take note *cough*).

4) somehow this simple idea transformed into a fic that made fun of typical Vietnam fanon depictions. *shrugs*. I just wanted to see what Vietnam would be like if she was more relaxed than usually characterized.

**Disclaimer: author fucking loves Starbucks coffee.**

**Extra **A/N:

After finishing my super long WW2 Ameviet fic, Hard to Get, I sort of disappeared off of this site. Since then, I've received messages from so many nice readers. The most common questions have been: "Is there a sequel to this? Are you going to write more AmeViet?"

Hard to Get is over. In fact, I've even decided to resist the temptation to edit or make any changes to the story. But as for different AmeViet stories, of course I will write and publish more! New stories wouldn't be as ambitious and long as Hard to Get, but probably smaller vignettes that examine their relationship from different time periods and angles. At the moment, I'm very occupied not only with Junior Year Stuff (SATs, ACTs, GPA, other abbreviations...) but also with my original story ideas, outside of fanfic. Once I've sufficiently completed all of these things, I'd be more than happy to look back at AmeViet!

I'm also thinking about writing some commentary about Hard to Get on my tumblr blog in the future. The link to my blog is in my profile. Stuff like that would probably be tagged "hard to get." If you have any questions, feel free to PM me.

Meanwhile, I strongly encourage that anyone who loves AmeViet should create their own fanfic, or fanart, or whatever suits them. It's a pitifully small fandom and any contribution would be a great one. If you're doubtful of your skill, keep in mind that fanwork is an excellent way to improve (I definitely experienced this first-hand). Furthermore, don't hesitate to ask me for advice if you want it, on any social platform you can find me on :)


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